


His Tribute

by Tinuviel_Undomiel



Category: Rumbelle - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-18 06:21:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3559331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tinuviel_Undomiel/pseuds/Tinuviel_Undomiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU After the ogres has forced them to flee their land, Maurice makes a deal with Rumplestiltskin, trading his daughter to be the Dark One's mistress in exchange for his wealth and lands returned to him. Belle is frightened at first when she first goes to the Dark Castle, but soon learns of the man behind the monster. Expect lots of smut in this fic, guys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, yeah, my muse held me hostage again. But this is actually a really old idea I had and inspiration just struck to take it up again. It's kind of different from what I usually do because I plan for this one to contain a lot more smut, but also it kind of works as an experiment to see how different things would be if Belle were with Rumple a lot longer in FTL. I hope you all enjoy it.

His Tribute

 

Prologue

 

            It wasn’t the first time Gold had been locked into a cell, but before he’d at least planned the occasion. He’d hated every moment of that imprisonment, but back then he’d had something pushing him forward so he could bear it. This was just a blow to his dignity and gave Regina the illusion that she was in control.

                   Twenty-eight years of sleeping and he’d finally woken up. He was so close to his goal, so close to finally reaching the work of lifetimes. He knew he could work with this, that this wouldn’t change the end result. On the outside, he knew what would happen and all would be well. On the inside he was ripped into pieces.

                   The chipped teacup was safely in his hands. He kept turning it over, fingering the chipped rim, and tracing the blue branch on the face. For twenty-eight years there had been no pain, no guilt, no memories of what could have been. It had been glorious, but now his eyes were open. He was Rumplestiltskin, the Dealer, the Spinner, the Monster. The pain, the memories, they were the only good thing he had left in him. He had to hold onto that.

                   Sheriff Swan hung up the phone, letting out a sigh. “Once your bail comes through then you’re free to go.”

                   “Lucky me,” he said grimly, never looking up from the cup.

                   “You know, I don’t get you,” she said from her chair, “You have a houseful of museum quality stuff and yet you beat a man nearly to death because of a worthless teacup.”

                   “You may see it as worthless, but it is invaluable to me.”

                   Emma thought about that for a moment then stood up. “Fine, I can see that, but you and I both know you didn’t attack Moe because of a cup. This is something more. This is about _her_.”

                   He tried not to flinch, but knew he failed. He never could control himself whenever he thought of her. She’d stripped him of his armor, his weapons, all of the things he’d built to defend himself against pain and disappointment. Now she was gone and he had to rebuild his arsenal without her there to keep him from going back.

                   “I don’t know who—.”

                   “Nope, I’m not buying that,” Emma said, “You said it and you know you did. Now Moe did something to someone, a woman. What happened? Who is she? If she needs help then you have to tell me.”

                   “You can’t help her! She’s dead!” Gold shouted. He could feel a sob in the back of his throat but he shoved it back down. He hadn’t meant to say that. He shouldn’t have. She may have died in that other world, but not here. Here she never existed. She was erased like a line drawn in the sand as the tide rolls across it.

                   But she did exist. She had been real. She had been his.

                   “Who?” Emma asked, gently this time, “Who is she?” He remained silent. Emma wouldn’t understand, not yet. She may be an adult, but she was a child in so many ways. It was too soon for her to know everything, to know her place in his plan and what she had to do.

                   “Fine, then what did Moe do?” Emma asked, “Why do you hate him so much, he seems nice enough to me.”

                   “You’re wrong,” he told her coolly, “I know I’m not a good person. I know I am selfish and cruel, but I have never done what he did. He sacrificed someone for his own gain and never regretted it. He sold away the one thing he should have protected and then turned his back on her without any shame.”

                   It took him a moment to realize what he’d just said. It was too much, far too much. An understanding dawned in Emma’s blue eyes, her posture was rigid. “What are you saying, Gold?”

                   He just stared at her, his jaw clenched tight.

                   “What did he do?” she asked again, “What did he do to her?”

                   Gold bowed his head, his eyes staring down into the bowl of the cup. It was such a loaded question, one that contained a very long story.


	2. Chapter 1: Sold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to FTL: Belle is sold to the Dark One by her own father and worries about what lays in store for her.

Chapter 1: Sold

It was boiled cabbage for dinner again. Same as yesterday and the day before that. Cabbage was the only vegetable that survived in their meager garden. She’d tried growing squash and carrots but the harvest was poor this year. Belle didn’t mind all of the work. She only wished it had paid off in the end. At least the sky was clear, no chance of rain coming through their leaky roof.

            Belle slammed her rusty trowel into the unforgiving soil. There was maybe just enough time to plant some turnips for next year’s crop. She didn’t really like them, but anything would be better than cabbage. The memory of roasted pheasant, perfectly frosted cakes, tender lamb and potatoes washed over her for a moment, but she shoved them away. It was no good to remember those better days.

            Besides, her new life wasn’t all that bad. Sure it meant getting up before the sun rose and going to bed hungry more often than not, but at least she wasn’t married to that boorish Gaston. That was one thing she would always be grateful for. She would much rather be toiling in this barren garden than sitting at his side as he regaled her with another droll tale of his hunting.

            There were things she did miss. Her nurse, Agnes, and her maid, Bessie, who had been her companions for so long had been lost in the great exodus her people had made when the ogres were on their rampage. She missed her library at home where she and her mother had read to each other until the wee hours of the morning. Most of all she missed being in a place that felt like home. There was a security in a home, a sense of belonging. She hadn’t felt that since they had abandoned the Marshlands in the dead of night.

            She blinked back the useless tears and straightened up, her back cracking as she did. It would get easier. One day all of that would be a distant memory. Better to focus on the here and now than what they had lost. Her arms ached as she reached down and plucked up her basket of cabbages. It was best to just keep on surviving.

            The small, one room thatched cottage was dark, with only a small fire going in the blackened hearth. Lord Maurice had aged ten years since their flight less than a year before. His face was wizened and lined, his hair graying and gone in more places. More than that, his eyes were drooping and always staring off into the distance. He sat in the crooked chair wrapped in all of their threadbare blankets just gazing into the dim fire.

 

            Belle sighed and put the last log on the fire. “I thought you were going to go to town to get more wood.”

            “I wasn’t up to it,” Maurice said.

            “Father, I know this is hard, but we knew it would be. If we just try—.”

            “Try to what?” he asked, “We are living like rats, Belle. Worse than rats. I am a lord of the realm, made so by the king.”

            “I know,” she said. She took to peeling the cabbages and dropping them into the pot with water and a few herbs she’d managed to find in the forest. “But this is our life now.”

            “I can’t go on like this, Belle!” Maurice’s voice cracked over her name, “I wasn’t born for this sort of drudgery.”

            _And I was?_ she thought to herself. She just sighed again and picked up her spoon. “We’ll get used to it. You know we had no choice but to flee, father.”

            “We have a choice now.”

            Belle frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

            “I think we should call upon the Dark One.”

            She let out a gasp, the spoon dropping from her hand and clattering to the floor. “Father, you know that isn’t an option! We knew better than to call upon him when the ogres were coming. You’ve heard the stories.”

            “Yes, and he always makes a deal,” Maurice said, “He can give it all back to us, Belle.”

            “At what cost? If we had called him before he would have demanded something for his aid. We have nothing to offer him now.”

            “He can’t resist a deal. We’ll find some way to pay him, maybe offer him your first born.”

            “I’m not going to offer up my first born to the Dark One!” Belle shouted, her hands on her hips as she glared at him. “Besides, you don’t even know his name, how are you to call on him?”

            “I do know his name. Sir Torin told it to me before he left,” Maurice said.

            Belle swallowed then shook her head. “No, father. You can’t do it. We don’t even know if he would come. The risk is too great no matter what.”

            She knelt back down at the pot and stirred it some more before finding two bowls and filling them with cabbage. “We need to be realistic. This is the only way for us now. It’s time to put those days behind us.”

            “But Belle—.”

            “It will be all right, father,” she said, “Tomorrow I’ll go to town and find some wood. Maybe I’ll look for a job there too. We’ll find a way, I promise.”

            She handed her father his bowl and a spoon. He stirred at his meal but barely ate a bite of it. He just stared at it, his brow creased and his eyes shining with tears.

            Belle left after breakfast the next morning to walk to the village. She wished some of her old people had come here, but alas, they were still strangers in this place. At least they were friendly enough. She managed to trade some of her extra cabbages for a bundle of wood. It probably was more generous than she had hoped. Sadly, a look at the inn revealed no current job vacancies. She would just have to try again some other time.

            She was almost to her cottage door when she felt it. There was a sudden ripple in the air. Not a breeze, more like a sudden wave of feeling. It made the hairs on the nape of her neck stand at attention. The sound of voices left her confused. No one ever came to see them.  They had no allies, not friends, not even enemies. They were entirely alone. She stood just outside the doorway and listened.

            “I don’t have to do anything,” a strange voice replied. The voice was high, almost child like, but frighteningly rough. It wasn’t a human voice that spoke. It was something else, something dark. “But I can give you what you’ve lost. Your lands, your title, your wealth. But nothing is for free. Now what is it you can offer me?”

            “Anything,” Maurice begged, “I’ll give you anything you ask.”

            “That’s the problem, dearie, you have nothing to offer the Dark One.”

            Belle gasped and dropped her bundle of wood. Both men turned to look at her but she paid no mind to her father. Her attention rested on the man she had never wanted to see, of course man was a generous term.

            The creature before her was a very strange thing. He stood like a man but was covered in greenish-grey scales. His hair was a mousy brown and in tangled waves. He sported a thick coat of some sort of lizard, dragon probably. His eyes were large and seemed to shine with a red and yellow fire. He gave her a cursory look, smiling with a row of stained teeth. “And who is this eavesdropper?” he asked.

            “My daughter,” Maurice said.

            “A pretty little thing,” the Dark One said as he drew closer to her. He walked all around her, his shoulder brushing against her just a bit. She recoiled, but that only made him laugh in an odd titter. “Very pretty, even in these rags.” He fingered at her threadbare sleeve with two blackened nails.

            “Are you trying to frighten me?” Belle asked him.

            “Is it working?” he asked, still grinning.

            “Only your manners,” she said. Perhaps he had startled her at first, but now she refused to let him intimidate her. Instead she looked over at her father who stood there, wringing his hands in front of him. “Father, I told you not to do this!”

            “Oooh, I don’t think she likes me much,” The Dark One said, giving a mocking shudder.

            “Belle, I had no choice,” Maurice continued, “I can’t live like this anymore. It’s too hard on me.”

            “Hard on you? _I_ am the one working! _I_ am the one trying to keep us alive! If you would just try, father, try and move on instead of calling upon sorcerers to give you back what you’ve lost.”

            “Smart girl,” the Dark One said, “Who’d have thought that pretty head of yours would have a brain. No need to worry yourself, dearie, as I was about to leave anyways.”

            Belle let out a sigh of relief, but her father stepped forward, reaching with one hand. “Leave? You can’t! I want to make a deal!”

            “A deal only works when you have something to offer me, I don’t work for free,” The Dark One said, “This hovel,” he flourished his hand to gesture to the cottage, “has nothing I want.”

            “Take my daughter’s first born,” Maurice said.

            “No!” Belle cried.

            “She’ll make a fine match once I have my authority reinstated,” Maurice continued, paying her no heed, “Once she’s married, you can have her child.”

            “I don’t want her child,” The Dark One said, “What use would I have of a squalling infant? Besides, there is no proof she is fertile unless you’ve had a bastard fill your belly,” he said to her.

            “How dare you!” she hissed at him.

            “And I take it you wouldn’t offer your child even if I was interested.”

            “Never!”

            “Then that settles it, no deal.” The Dark One gave them a little wave, “I’ll see myself out.”

            “Wait, please!” Maurice begged, “I can give you something else!”

            “Learn to live in poverty, Lord Maurice,” The Dark One told him, “Your pretty daughter certainly has.”

            He turned on his heel and strode once again towards the door. Belle was glad that this was over, but she wouldn’t forget this. How could her father be so foolish?

            “Wait! My daughter! Take my daughter!”

            Belle felt all of the blood drain from her face. She tried to gasp in air but nothing came. What? Did he really…? He couldn’t have. She looked at her father then back towards the dark creature. The Dark One had stopped. So had her heart.

            He turned around slowly, his eyes seemingly larger now. “You would sell your own daughter to regain the life you lost?”

            “She is mine,” Maurice said, “By the law she belongs to me. Will you accept her as your price?”

            She could feel the world swaying just a bit. “Father,” she pleaded, “You can’t!” How could he? She was the only family he had left. Did she mean so little to him?

            Maurice didn’t look at her. He stared back at the Dark One with a certain look in his eyes. “Will you take her?”

            “Do you know what I could do with her?” The Dark One asked.

            “Do you want her?” Maurice said instead.

            Belle shivered now, her whole body rigid, poised to flee. Could she do it? Would the Dark One accept such an unwilling victim?

            Then the Dark One gave her his full attention, smiling a positively filthy smile full of stained teeth and dark promises. He walked towards her, one finger stroking her shoulder. “I might be persuaded,” he said. She shivered as the finger dipped down to the neckline of her dress. “But I have to take a look at everything I am buying.”

            He stretched out with his clawed hands, hooking around the neck of her gown, and tearing it away from her body. Her dress was threadbare cotton so it tore as easy old paper. Belle gasped in horror and tried to cover herself with her hands, but he forced them away. She didn’t have a chemise, it was far too hot for one, so she stood there completely naked to his lascivious gaze. His enormous eyes raked in her body from her high breasts down to the tangle of curls between her legs. Belle could only hang her head in shame.

            “Well, well,” he said like he was staring at some particularly tasty treat, “Those rags were certainly hiding a beauty. You’d be fine addition to my collection at home.”

            Collection? She felt bile build up in the back of her throat. Gods, what would he do to her? Had he done such things to others?

            “She’s a maid,” Maurice promised him, “Completely untouched.”

            “So you say,” the Dark One sneered. He looked back at Belle. “Tell me, dearie, and I’ll know if you lie. Are you a maid or has some stable boy already plucked at you?”

            Belle thought about lying. Could he really know if she spoke anything but the truth? Maybe then he would leave her alone. But his eyes bore in her, daring her to misspeak, to try and use false words to get out of this. He would know, she had no doubt now.

            “I…I am a maid,” she whispered.

            He let out a “hmmm” of delight. “This isn’t my usual sort of deal.” Now he looked back at Maurice. “Do you accept the terms? You will sell your daughter to me so I may do whatever I wish to her?”

            “Father,” Belle begged of him, “Please, don’t do this to me!”

            Maurice looked at her but there was no hope there. She was a stranger to him now. “I accept.”

            “Excellent!” With a snap of his fingers, Belle’s dress repaired itself and she was back to being covered. Still, she wrapped her arms around her chest to try and protect herself from his gaze. “Go pack what you need, dearie. You won’t be returning.”

            No, she didn’t think she would. Belle refused to look back at her father as she went to her side of the cottage. She found an old carpetbag and threw in what clothes she had, her mother’s necklace that she hid so he wouldn’t sell it, and the five books she’d brought with her when they’d first fled their home. It was all she treasured in the world. She hoped they would be a comfort to her for what would come.

            “Would you like to say goodbye?” the Dark One asked her with a giggle. Belle just shook her head.

            “Very well,” he stated, “Enjoy your castle, Maurice, while I enjoy your daughter.” He grabbed Belle’s waist and then they were gone in a cloud of purple smoke.

            For a moment there was nothing but darkness, not even air to breathe in. Then there was more purple smoke. Once the magic cleared, Belle gasped in a breath and nearly stumbled. Her head spun, making her stomach roll like a giant ocean wave. If she’d eaten anything she was certain she would have vomited.

            The Dark One let out a giggle, keeping his arm on her waist until she stopped swaying. “It takes some getting used to.”

            Belle rather hoped she would never have to, but she didn’t know what to expect of this place. Once her head stopped spinning, she could see they stood in a large foyer. There was round table with a vase of flowers, a dusty suit of armor, and stuffed bear in mid strike. It was  a cleverly done arrangement, so well done that it almost appeared as if the bear was merely frozen instead of dead. Then again, maybe it was.

            The Dark One walked on, nearly leaving her behind as she continued to take in the room. Two large doors opened without him having to touch them and she followed, running to catch up with him. “Whe—where am I to go?” she asked. Would he toss her in the dungeons? Lock her in a tower? What did the Dark One do with his kept women?

            “I’m sure I can find a room,” he said absently, like the thought hadn’t even occurred to him that he must put her somewhere. Maybe it hadn’t. She doubted either of them planned to be in this situation.

            The room they walked through was a large hall. There was a long table set in the center with one chair. A wingback chair was set before a fireplace. Pedestals circled the room containing various trophies including a branch with a skin of golden wool, a lamp, a wicked looking scythe, two of the ugliest puppets she’d ever seen, and a funny conical hat. There was a spinning wheel set in the corner with a basket of straw beside it.

            She would have liked to explore the room some more, but he was in no mood to let her. She hurried after him, passing through several doorways that opened on their own. He moved up a flight of stairs before he stopped at one door. It opened at his command and her waved her inside. “This should suit you, but if not there are others you may occupy.”

            The room was far finer than the one she’d had before when she was lady. There was large, four poster bed with a rich blue canopy. A huge wardrobe stood against one wall and she was certain her few dresses would get lost inside of it. A chaise and one chair were set before a fireplace. There was another door she guessed went to a water closet.

            “I—I think it will do,” she said. Belle looked back a that beautiful bed, now it looked as appealing as a cage. Would he take her now? Rip off her clothes and mount her like some alley dog?

            “Very well, I will leave you to it, unless you are in need of anything else?”

            Belle said nothing. She stood in the center of her new room, afraid to touch anything in case it should turn out to be deadly or earn his lust in some way. The Dark One showed no emotion. He turned around, striding towards the open door.

            “Wait!” she called out to him. He stopped, turning slightly so he could look at her. “Do…do you have a name?”

            “Yes,” he said curtly.

            “Can I know it?”

            He looked past her, as if she’d asked him to solve some complicated riddle that had more than one trick answer. “Rumplestiltskin,” he said at last.

            “Rumplestiltskin,” Belle said the name slowly, enjoying the way it rolled off her tongue. Odd that his name wasn’t as fierce as the rest of him, yet it seemed to suit him.

            “Say my name if you require me and I will come.” With that said, he turned back around and left the room, the door closing behind him.

            Belle felt the weight of her fear lift away as she release the breath she had been holding. She was safe from his licentious attentions, at least for now.

            Tears pricked at her eyes, blinding her. What would happen to her now? Anger welled up inside at her father. How could he do this? How could anyone sell their only child to be a monster’s whore? Belle went to the chaise, too nervous about what might happen on that bed later to take comfort on it.

            Did her father even regret his choice? Would he see his gold and lands and wish he’d done better by his daughter? But Belle remembered how he hadn’t looked at her, how her pleas hadn’t moved him. That was answer enough. She buried her face into her hands and wept, for her shame and mostly for the shame of having such an unlovable father.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            It wasn’t often that Rumplestiltskin indulged himself in Agraban fire whiskey, usually only when especially painful dates returned to haunt him, but tonight he needed something to calm himself. He hadn’t intended to deal with Sir Maurice. He had gone because his name was called and for no other reason than that. But when the man had offered his own child…he had just snapped.

            So now he had a girl upstairs in a bedroom, a belly burning with liquor, and no idea what he had been thinking. Meanwhile Maurice was about to receive word that his lands were restored to him with a several trunks of gold waiting for him. Well, he’d made the deal so he would get what he wanted, but Rumplestiltskin could not simply allow Maurice to get away with this disgrace.

            He knew about terrible fathers. His own would have certainly sold him in a heartbeat but scrawny young boys weren’t worth much gold. In the end, his father had simply abandoned him so he could recapture the youth and power he’d once had. Of course, he had wound up doing the same, much to his everlasting regret.

            No, now was not the time to focus on his greatest sin. He need to think about what he had done in the present not the past. He had a girl in his castle. She was probably frightened, angry too. He would make sure the castle would provide her some supper, maybe that would help.

            It seemed ridiculous actually having a guest in his castle. The last time he’d had a woman live here she had been his apprentice and that had turned into a mistake soon enough. Well, he’d always had a way with making women leave, not stay, so at least he had no attachment to this one.

            Still, he’d done this, so he had to see it through. He took another hefty swallow of the fiery liquid, enjoying the pain as it slid down his throat. Maurice would get what he wanted and more, much more.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            It was the smell of bread and roasted chicken that caught Belle’s attention away from her troubled thoughts. She looked over and saw a tray sitting on a table in front of the fireplace. She wiped her cheeks with her palms and walked over, removing the cover to see what lay underneath. It was a plate of roasted chicken with stewed potatoes seasoned with rosemary, sweet carrots and a dish of wild rice. There was a plate of freshly baked white bread and whipped, creamy butter. There was also moist, golden honey cakes for dessert. A bottle of wine was breathing and a goblet was ready to be filled.

            Belle’s stomach rumbled with agreement at the idea of a meal. She looked at the bottle of wine with comfort. She had never been much for drinking, but tonight she was willing to partake a bit. The wine was sweet, far to weak to get her tipsy, but it still helped to soothe some of her nerves. She picked up one slice of bread, giving it a careful sniff. Would magic have changed the taste of it? Was it poisoned? Surely the Dark One hadn’t cooked this himself. She hadn’t seen any servants. The castle was completely silent, not like her old home which had always been full of servants, guards, and anyone who had business with her father. Magic had made this food and she didn’t trust magic.

            Still, she hadn’t eaten since breakfast which had only been an apple and her stomach didn’t care what had made the food, it just wanted it. She took one careful bite, chewing on it far longer than she needed to. It didn’t taste any different, just bread.

            She slowly went through the rest of the meal, every now and then glancing up for…something. It was so quiet, too quiet. She wasn’t used to such silence.

            She had just taken a bite out of one sweet honey cake when she heard a creak. Belle jumped, dropping the cake onto the table and spilling wine all over the place. Was it him? Had he come at last?

            The minutes ticked on and there was no other sound. Her heart slowly began to stop it’s gallop and she sank back into her chair, her meal completely forgotten. God, what was she going to do? She tried to remember what Agnes had told her once she’d been betrothed. Her husband would undress her, she would lie on the bed, then he would put a part of himself inside of her and give her his seed. With the gods on their side, there would be a son born to them as a blessing on their marriage.

            Except there was no marriage, and she certainly hoped for no child. There would only be the Dark One and whatever he desired of her.

            After she had abandoned her meal, the tray vanished, leaving her with nothing left to do but wait. Wait. Wait for when she would be ravished. Raped. Defiled. Spoiled. Ruined.

            She couldn’t breath sitting there. Belle stood up from her settee and walked around. There was the clock over the fireplace ticking away. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

            The candles grew dim while she paced through the room. The sun vanished, leaving nothing but darkness behind the curtains. She sat back on the settee, her eyes latched onto the door. Tick. Tick. Tick.

When would he come? Would he want to hurt her? She needed to talk to someone, to do something, to find out what was coming to her? It wasn’t fair that women were left completely in the dark about what went one between men and women until they were married. Boys were brought to the oiled bosoms of painted ladies once they began to talk like men, but girls were expected to remain pure until her husband first put his hands on her.

            She’d read, yes, but reading wasn’t enough. She needed to _know_.

            Gods, when would he come? She could hardly breath. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. When would he come? What did he have planned for her? Would she fade away like that one girl? Lisa? No, that wasn’t her name? It hardly mattered. Once she had been raped by vandals she had become a ghost. Was that her fate now? Tick. Tick. Tick.

            It was supposed to hurt, wasn’t it? The first time? How badly? Would she cry? Scream? Would he like that? Oh, she just wanted it done! She just wanted it over with so then she would know! She wanted that bloody clock to stop ticking! Tick. Tick. Tick.

            Belle rested her head against the arm of the settee. Waiting was so exhausting. A part of her wished he would come and get it over with. She didn’t want to be raped, but since she had no choice in the matter it was better for the worst of it to be behind her.

            What would her mother think to have her daughter here, sitting around waiting for her rapist to come and take what he wanted? Her parents had never had a happy marriage, a civil one perhaps, but not happy. She wished her mother could be here to hold her hand and tell her it was all going to be okay. That this night, that what was going to happen, it wasn’t going to define her. That there were better things coming. That she would find her way out of this dark place and back to where she belonged.

            If she tried hard enough, she could almost hear her mother humming her favorite lullaby. How did it go? It didn’t matter, she could remember the tune and that was enough. She let it play in her mind, winding around her until she couldn’t hear every creak and groan of the castle, until she stopped staring at the door, until finally it was all peaceful and sweet.

            Belle opened her eyes, blinking in the sudden ray of sunlight. Sunlight? She sat up slowly, a sharp pain in her neck and her back ached. The fire in the fireplace was still going so the room was plenty warm. The bed remained empty, sheets flat and crisp. He hadn’t come.

            He hadn’t come.

            Why hadn’t he come? Oh she was grateful, to be sure, but also confused. He’d bought her effectively, why hadn’t he come to sample his merchandise? Had she angered him perhaps? Did she dare find out?

            Another tray appeared on the table, this one containing a bowl of hot porridge, a boiled egg, butter, more fresh bread, some chilled fruit, and salted ham. There was a tea set ready for her use. Belle poured herself a cup of tea and dug in to her breakfast. She didn’t hesitate this time as she was quite hungry and had suffered no ill effects from her previous meal.

            She finished her meal in the same silence that she had started with. It seemed the whole castle was empty except for her. Maybe it was. Had he gone? Was she here all alone? Had he left her here?

            Belle could feel a knot forming in her belly. A tiny voice in the back of her mind told her not to push her luck, to just stay in her room, maybe forever. But Belle knew to hide would bring her no answers. Besides, if he was gone this might be her chance to escape.

            The door creaked as she pushed it open, meeting a blast of cool air from the empty corridor. The flesh on her arms prickled so she rubbed at them with her hands as she tiptoed through the hallway. Torches lit the way as most of the windows were closed up either by thick curtains or shutters. It wasn’t winter yet, so it was rather odd to have the place shut up so much. Soon the days would be colder and then it would be time to shut the castle away. Was the Dark One so scared of the light that he kept his castle in eternal gloom?

            Belle found many of the rooms she passed were dark and full of dusty things. Some rooms were piled nearly to the ceiling with treasure and trinkets, all of great value, and all just gathering dirt and grime from lack of care. He had enough treasure to buy the whole world but there was no concern for it at all.

            After a lot of exploring, she finally found her way to the great hall she had seen when they had first arrived yesterday. There was a roaring fire in the fireplace where the one wingback chair sat. A pretty tea service, white with blue branches, sat on the long wooden table. A plate of cookies sat there too, but so far it was all untouched. Was it all for her?

            She walked softly into the room, peering down at the tea set. It was a pretty thing and all of this exploring had made her a bit hungry again. A cup of tea might be nice.

            She picked up one teacup and poured a generous amount of tea. She took the cream pitcher and poured in a bit of milk, the lump of sugar would be next.

            “Ah, I was wondering where you were.”

            Belle gasped, whirling around to face the Dark One. The teacup slipped from her finger, hitting the ground with an audible thud. He stood there by his spinning wheel, absent the dragonhide coat. Instead he had a red silk shirt on and a brocade vest. Thick leather breeches were wrapped around his legs and he had boots that went to his knees. He had his hands behind his back and that tricky smile on his face.

            “I was beginning to think maybe you’d thrown yourself out of your window last night,” he said, “I was about to search the gardens for your bloody remains.”

            Belle swallowed hard, trying desperately not to imagine such an awful sight. “You are mistaken,” she said.

            “It’s Belle, isn’t it?” he asked.

            “What?”

            “Your name? I do believe your miserable father mentioned that before he sold you to me.” She nodded once. He looked her over once again, but it wasn’t with the same lascivious gaze he’d given her when she was naked. Instead he just seemed to be perusing her like she was some lamp he was considering putting on display or tossing into a dusty closet.

            “Well at least you’re small, you won’t get in the way here,” Rumplestiltskin said, “Feel free to have tea if you like, but do be silent. Crying and mad displays of emotion upset my spinning.”

            “I’m not going to cry,” Belle told him.

            “Good. Keep it that way.”

            He turned around and strode towards the spinning wheel. Belle peered at his back. Was that all? No mention of last night? No word on when she was to begin her duties as his bedmate? “I thought…” her voice failed her before she could finish.

            Rumplestiltskin turned around to face her. “Thought what, dearie?”

            If he had forgotten about her last night, now was not the time to remind him that she was still a maid. Since she had found him here, surely he would remember and come to her bed tonight.

            “Never mind,” she said. He let out a grunt and turned back around, taking his seat at his spinning wheel.

            Tea was what she needed. She would rather take it back in her room, but perhaps if she left now he would follow her. Last night she had thought she would rather get it over with, but her courage was gone now. Instead she bent down to retrieve the fallen cup.

            “Oh no,” she gasped when she cradled the cup in her hands.

            “What is it now?” he asked, glaring at her with straw between his fingers.

            Belle didn’t know what to do. She shouldn’t have said anything, but now he was staring at her, waiting to speak. Would he be furious? Would this make tonight all the more unbearable?

            “The cup,” she said, her voice wavering a bit, “It’s—it’s chipped.”

            The once pristine cup now had an ugly chip gauged out of the rim. It was as obvious as a missing front tooth, but she managed to say, “You—you can h-hardly see it.”

            He stared at her for a moment and then shook his head. “Well it’s just a cup.”

            Just a cup?

            Belle gaped at the Dark One, still holding the teacup in her hands. That was it? He wasn’t going to strip her bare and whip her before he finally had his way with her? He wasn’t going to chain her up in the dungeon while he raped her in every way imaginable? He wasn’t going even simply scream at her for damaging his property?

            Belle climbed to her feet and left the cup on the tray, her desire for the tea long gone. He never so much as glanced at her, just kept the wheel whirring as he made golden thread on the spool.

            “I’ll just go back to my room,” she said.

            “Go then,” he replied, still not looking at her. He made no move to leave his wheel.

            She slowly walked to the door, never once looking away from him. She waited for him to get up to follow, waited for him to do something. Nothing came.

            She left the great hall and no footsteps followed her. She returned to her room where another tray was waiting for her, but the door closed behind her. It didn’t open again. He wasn’t coming.

            Not yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me what you think. 
> 
> Next Chapter: Word spreads of Maurice's deal, a visitor comes to the Dark Castle and Rumplestiltskin finally tells Belle just what he has planned for her.


	3. Chapter 2: Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word spreads of Maurice's deal, a visitor comes to the Dark Castle and Rumplestiltskin finally tells Belle just what he has planned for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally carved time out of my busy schedule to give you this chapter. I hope you all like it!

            Belle woke up to another hot breakfast set on her table by the fire. After her brief encounter with Rumplestiltskin yesterday, she’d once again stayed into her room and waited for him to come. He never did.

            She had gotten over her trepidation of the bed, deciding it was better to sleep in comfort than to spend another night on the settee. She had actually managed to read one of her books as well as she had waited for him come. The book was still on the bed next to her where she had left it. Had he come in and found her asleep and changed his mind? There was nothing out of place, nothing at all to suggest there had been an intruder.

            Belle wondered over it all as she left the bed. It really was a fine bed, stuffed with feathers and made with crisp linen sheets, far more luxurious than her old bed at her father’s castle. She’d even slept rather well, despite her fear that he would come.

            She meant to enjoy her breakfast, but gasped when she saw a slipper tub set up in front of the fire, already filled with steaming hot water. It was far larger than her old tub and there was even a bar of scented soap and oils ready for her to use. She thought about eating her breakfast first, but it had been so long since she had enjoyed a hot bath that she couldn’t resist. Belle eagerly stripped off her wrinkled dress and slipped into the deliciously hot water.

            The soap smelled like lavender and left her skin and hair feeling clean. The oils helped restore moisture to her dry, farm-worked hands and skin. It felt so good to finally take a real bath instead of a quick wipe-down with cold water to get rid of most of the grime. She never considered herself a vain woman, but she did enjoy being clean.

            She loathed to leave the hot water, but her stomach was begging for food. Surprisingly, the breakfast of toast, eggs, blueberry pastries, jam, and roasted potatoes was still hot like it had just been served. Magic, she supposed, but she wasn’t going to complain.

            Once her breakfast was finished, the tray vanished again. Was there a kitchen where all of this went to? Perhaps she could go find it. Exploring the castle would be far more entertaining than shutting herself away again. Besides, it was a large place, it was doubtful that she would find him.

            She smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress before leaving her room. She wished she had more clothes, but all of them were threadbare and stained from mud. Well she wasn’t going to ask the Dark One for a new wardrobe, if he took issue with her clothes then he would have to give them to her on his own. She wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted of her, but she didn’t dare ask anything of him.

            The castle was as quiet as it had been yesterday, but that hardly meant that she was all alone. He didn’t make much noise for such a boisterous person. It was odd, almost like the creature outside this castle was a just a mask he wore, a part he played. She had understood the one she’d met when her father had sold her, but the one who lived here…who was the real Dark One?

            It did no good to wonder. All she did know was that he was not to be trusted.

            Belle knew from her own home that the kitchens would be set lower in the castle, so she took to the stairs. The great hall was as good a place as any to start. Surely any servants would have had to go from the kitchens to serve the master of the castle—assuming this castle had once housed servants. If she was lucky then the current master was not in the room.

            Luck was with her, the hall was empty. She smiled as she weaved her way through the room, her eyes drawn to the quiet spinning wheel. Maybe he was gone. A part of her feared and hoped for that.

            There was indeed a door that led to a small set of stairs. Sure enough, at the bottom lay the kitchens. They were far grander and larger than any she had ever seen. There was a stove, an iron oven, an enormous larder and pantry, and a massive fireplace Belle was quiet certain could roast a whole cow. The whole place was completely spotless even though it was packed to the gills with food fit for a king. There was no cook, kitchen boy, or scullery maid to care for the place. Magic was the servant here.

            Well, perhaps she could make something later. She had never cooked in the kitchen at her old home, but after the ogres had run them off she’d learned a few basic dishes by necessity. She could cook a decent stew and had learned to bake bread. She’d even once scraped up enough to make a pie for her father once in an effort to cheer him up.

            The reminder of that day when she’d tried to bring her father out of his cloud of depression whispered back the truth that she was here because of him. Everything she’d done to make him happy hadn’t been enough. Maurice cared more for lands and riches than his only child.

            The lure of the kitchens was gone now. She had lost any desire to even search the castle now. She wanted something familiar, to remind her of better days when her mother was alive and she had been an ignorant child in a world where evil was always conquered by good. She would return to her room and her mother’s favorite book as company.

            She only just opened the door to the great hall when she heard him. “Ah! There you are, good thing. I’m in need of you.”

            Oh gods, he was finally ready. Belle put one hand to her swirling belly, hoping her breakfast wouldn’t come back up. It was time to be brave.

            “I was just going to my room,” she said.

            “Good,” Rumplestiltskin told her. He had his thick dragonhide coat on again. “Go put on a suitable dress.”

            “Suitable for what?” she asked.

            “We’re going out.”

            “To where?”

            “Stop standing there and asking me ridiculous questions and do as you are told.”

            Belle didn’t hesitate to obey. She raced up the stairs so fast she didn’t even realize she was gasping for breath until she reached her room. What did he expect of her? She had no tempting clothes, no corset, no seductive perfume, nothing but what meager items she had packed with her. She looked through her dresses, picking out her best one. It had once been a brighter green, but had faded. She had long ago removed the lace because it had begun to fray, but it was cleanest of all of her clothes.

            She quickly put it on and brushed her hair before hustling back to the great hall. “I’m ready,” she panted out.

            “Excelle—what is that?” his pointed one finger at her.

            “My dress?”

            “That isn’t a dress, that is a rag.”

            “This is my best _dress_ ,” she hissed, smoothing down the skirt as if it were the finest silk and not ordinary cotton.

            “You were a lady once,” he said, “surely you have—.”

            “Need I remind you of my reduced circumstances?” she cut him off to add, “I left the majority of my wardrobe when we abandoned the castle. What I had managed to bring with me, I sold long ago so we wouldn’t starve. I kept the ones more suitable for work.”

            She stood there, her head held high and her back straight as a king’s sword. He may be able to hurl fireballs at dragons and turn people into insects, but she was not ashamed off all that she had done and if he wanted her to wear a different dress then he was going to have to make it himself.

            “Industrious,” he said with something akin to admiration, “but the mistress of the Dark One can’t look like a country bumpkin.”

            He snapped his fingers and her vision was full of purple smoke. She held her breath, afraid to get the magic into her lungs, but it cleared within seconds. Her green dress was gone, replaced with a gown of brilliant red silk, the color of a beating heart. She could feel a corset pushing her breasts into display more cleavage than she really had. There were yellow sleeves set off the shoulder, but strategically cut to show her arm and held in place by pearl cuffs above the elbow. It was a lovely creation, but not meant to be worn by a noble lady. This was the gown of a kept woman. It was hard to believe that she was among their number now.

            “Ah,” he sighed, “Much better. Now, shall we go?”

            Belle only nodded, her curiosity over where she was going diminished. She remembered visiting King George’s castle when she had turned sixteen and seeing the painted ladies sidling up to the lords, fluttering their fans in faux innocence, discreetly dropping their pelisses in order to flaunt their wares. Was she supposed act like them? She didn’t know the first thing about being seductive.

            He took a hold of her arm and there was another puff of smoke that swallowed them both. She tried not to dig her fingers into the fabric of her skirt as the ground vanished from beneath her feet. It was a half a moment later that she felt solid stone again. The smoke cleared and she could see they were no longer in the Dark Castle.

            It was a room similar to one at her father’s home. There was a long table that surely would host many knights and advisors. There was even a throne set in back where people could bring their grievances to their liege lord. It wasn’t elaborate enough to belong to a king, but Belle could tell whoever owned this place was a nobleman of great wealth. Her eyes fell on a tapestry displaying a stag with a laurel crown above his antlers.

            “This is the Duke of Wimberly’s castle,” she said.

            “Very astute, dearie,” Rumplestiltskin said, “I take it you know the duke?”           

            Belle nodded. “He used to do business with my father, he’s a very kind man. What business would have him call upon you?”

            “We’re about to find out.”

            The doors burst open and a tall man with long grey hair walked in wearing silk and velvet robes. Belle recognized the Duke though she hadn’t seen him in years. When she had first turned sixteen a marriage had been discussed between her and his second son, but it never came to be when the young man had died in a riding accident. The Duke would have made a kind father-in-law and she and Perkin had always been friends. Instead, she had been betrothed to Gaston, the one suitor she had never cared for.

            “Ah, so you are the duke who called my name,” Rumplestiltskin said.

            “You are the Dark One.”

            “Indeed.”

            The Duke’s gaze flickered over to her, his brown eyes softening. “Lady Belle, what a pleasure to see you again. I thought the worse when I heard Avonlea was attacked.”

            “We escaped,” Belle told him.

            “I just heard word that your father’s lands have been restored, you must be so relieved.”

            “I wouldn’t think so,” Rumplestiltskin said cheerily, “Seeing as how she doesn’t get to enjoy them.”

            The Duke frowned at him, his eyes gazing at her with the worry her own father should have given her. “My dear, why are you associated with this man?”

            The question was for her, but she couldn’t speak the truth. She’d known him for years, had sat across from him at a dinner party, danced with his sons, had even loaned a book to his late wife. He was her friend and now she was going to have to tell him that she was to no longer be a lady but a whore. How was she to say such a thing?

            She never had to find out.

            “She’s my latest prize,” Rumplestiltskin answered for her, “Her dear father sold her to me in exchange for all of his wealth and power back.”

            The Duke’s eyes went as round as platters. “Maurice did what?”

            “Sold his only child to be my mistress, a virgin to boot! I do believe I got the better end of the bargain,” he said, making sure to trail one of his claws down her neck to her shoulder. She couldn’t help the way she recoiled from his touch, but he only let out a hideous giggle. “I’m having a good time with this one, you’re lucky I left my castle at all to make a deal today.”

            Belle blinked at him. What was he talking about? She hadn’t done anything with him. He’d left her entirely alone. Was he talking about his plans for later? Gods, she wished he would just tell her when he was going to have her instead of letting her guess the hour of her rape.

            “Belle,” the Duke said, “Are you all right, child?”

            Oh she wished he hadn’t asked her that. She thought she might run to him now, throw her arms around him and tell him everything, how betrayed she was and how frightening all of this had been. She needed to be strong. He couldn’t do anything for her, no one could.

            “She’s fine, dearie,” Rumplestiltskin answered for her, “now did you call me here for something or are you simply wasting my valuable time.”

            “My son is dying,” Wimberly said, “He caught the plague. I fear I will lose him forever.”

            “Oh dear,” the Dark One said with mocking sympathy, “Couldn’t die like a soldier, no he has to waste away like an ordinary peasant. What do you want me to do about it?”

            “Please, save him. He’s all I have left in the world.”

            “You mean he’s your only heir.”

            “He’s my son and I don’t want him to die!”

            Belle wanted to slap Rumplestiltskin for what he was doing to the poor man. Just because he was so monstrous as to have no family, no one to care for, he felt that all people would only see how much their family was worth rather than love them unconditionally. Perhaps her own father was a poor example of this, but she knew Wimberly. He had loved his wife and his sons and Jacen was all he had left.

            “I can give you a cure,” Rumplestiltskin said, “For a price.”

            “Name it.”

            “It’s simple really, I’m quite proud of the deal I made. Just tell everyone you know of what your old friend Maurice has done.”

            Belle watched as the Duke’s face turned a bright shade of crimson. “You want me to spread the word of this poor lady’s shame?”

            “Shame? She’s mistress to the Dark One now,” Rumplestiltskin said, “She’s on the arm of the most powerful man in the world, if anything you should spread her good fortune. Just make sure everyone knows that her father sold her to me for his own gain.”

            Wimberly looked at her, his brown eyes heavy and pleading. She gave him the barest of nods. “Done,” he said.

            “Excellent!” Rumplestiltskin cheered. He held out his hand and there was a little cloud of smoke. Now in his palm was a tiny vial of glowing, green liquid. “Give this to your son, make sure he drinks every drop.”

            Wimberly took the vial and nodded. “Thank you.”

            “No thanks, required, just be sure to fulfill your end of the deal.”

            “I shall,” he said through gritted teeth. He glanced once more at Belle. “Be good to her, she’s a kind lady who deserved do much more.”

            “She’s mine, I can do whatever I like with her,” Rumplestiltskin reminded him. He snaked one arm around her waist and pulled her to his side. “And I’d like to finish what we had started before you called. Toodleoo!” he waved and then the smoke took them over again.

            Belle felt her stomach roll and it had nothing to do with magic.

* * *

            Rumplestiltskin was glad to be back at the castle, glad that business was done. The girl—Belle, he should remember that—had darted away the moment he had released her. No doubt she was anxious to wash the feeling of his touch off of her. He may have taken offense to that a long time ago, but now he was used to being repulsive. Besides, she had more reason than most to fear his touch.

            If it was any consolation, he made sure the castle supplied her with a more adequate wardrobe. Women like new clothes, right? It had been so long since he’d been with a woman it was hard to recall how to dry their tears. Milah had always liked pretty things, not that they could afford much when they were married. Once after a horrid fight he’d managed to buy her a silk ribbon with glass beads serving as a necklace. She had loved it and the fight was over, but that was before he’d become the cripple she had despised.

            He had given Cora chests of jewels and silks, anything she had wanted when he thought she had loved him, when he thought he had her heart. Well, her heart was clearly not in his possession now. Not that he was looking for love or anything from this girl. He just didn’t want her crying so much that it ruined his spinning.

            He sent up a tray for her again so she wouldn’t have to worry about eating with him. This was all a great deal harder than he had first thought. Well, he hadn’t really thought much about it to be honest. Gods, he was such a fool. He should have just let Sir Maurice in poverty with her daughter than giving him what he wanted. This girl was pointless to his plans and he wasn’t a charitable person. What had possessed him to take her he would never understand.

            The wheel wasn’t enough tonight. He needed something more potent to clear his thoughts of his mistakes and past stupidity. He took to the stairs where his laboratory was waiting for him. He could brew some more fire whiskey then settle down with a book until his mind was blissfully blank.

            He had actually forgotten that his journey would take him to the girl’s room until he saw her door open. She gasped when she saw him. He didn’t know what to do so he just stood there, staring at her. She wore only the chemise that had been beneath the gown he’d given her. The thin film was silk was practically transparent. By the gods, was this girl insane? He may not be a man but he had the same parts as one and they were screaming for him to give into this surprising bit of temptation.

            “I…I was…going to get some warm milk,” she said.

            Ah, she was looking for a refreshment before bed. Well, that was innocent enough, just like she was. Innocent, so perfectly innocent.

            “You could wear something a bit warmer,” he said, “it’s drafty in here.”

            “I don’t—.”

            “The castle will provide for you, dearie,” he cut her off, “the wardrobe should give you all that you need.”

            Her mouth opened and then closed. “Oh,” she said, “thank you for telling me.”

            “You’re my mistress, it is expected.”

            She swallowed and took a step back. “Indeed.” She smoothed her hands against the silk of her chemise. “I’ll go to bed.”

            “Good,” he said. He had tarried long enough and the fact that his cock was now straining against his leathers was enough to tell him he needed to move on. She left the door open, but he paid her no mind. Still, he made sure to send a cup of warm milk to her room. Anything to keep her from crying again.

* * *

 

            Belle had stayed up all night waiting for him, but he never came. Again.

            It seemed so strange. He had been standing outside of her room, surely he had been coming to take her at last, but then he seemed to have changed his mind. Was it something she had said? Had he not like what he had seen? But that didn’t make sense since he had seen her completely naked and approved of her. So what had sent him away from her room and back to wherever he spent the night?

            Belle tried not to think about, tried to summon up that gratitude she had felt that he hadn’t come, but all she was feeling now was confusion. Perhaps some anger too. Was he trying to frighten her? Did he find toying with her emotions a game for him? She tried to remember all of the stories she had heard about the Dark One. All were about how he steals children from their parents arms, can never resist a deal no matter how big or how small, and always twists his words to suit his own gain.

            So far, he hadn’t entirely lived up to his reputation. Oh he was tricky, coarse, and certainly a selfish creature. She didn’t trust him, but she had also found nothing so fearsome about him other than his title.

            Belle didn’t know what to think, but she wasn’t sure if she had the courage to ask him. He may not be as frightening up close as he was in legend, but he still wasn’t the friendly sort. It appeared he spend his time in two places, either in the West Tower doing gods knew what, or spinning golden thread in the great hall. He hardly said a word to her in either case, though she never dared step foot in his tower anyways.

            Still, she was tired of spending all of her time hiding in her room. Since this was to be her home now then she might as well get used to it. So she took one of her books and went down to the great hall. She wasn’t sure if she wanted him to be there or not, but the room was empty regardless of her wishes.

            Belle took up the chair by the fire and found a little tea service with cookies ready for her use. Well, he had said the castle would provide for her.

            She settled back with a cup of hot tea and her book. After a little while she kept waiting for him to find her and just lost herself in the words. Her mother had loved books, so whenever she felt sad or lonely, she would open a book and find her mother again.

            The princess had just broken tradition and was now picking up her own sword to slay the dragon instead of waiting for the knight to do the deed when Belle heard the hinges of a door scream open. She launched out of the chair, ready to greet him, but gasped at who she saw.

            It wasn’t Rumplestiltskin just returning from another deal, but a woman. She was dressed entirely in black with long ropes of black pearls around her neck, a black silk dress that plunged in the front, and shoes with heels so high she wondered how she walked in them. Her lips were painted a deep red, almost like the color of blood. When she smiled, her teeth were pearly white, vibrant the same way a predator grins at his prey.

            “Well, well, well,” the woman said, still smiling, “I see the rumors are true.”

            “I’m sorry?” Belle asked. She gripped her book hard as the woman probed her with her eyes.

            “Where are my manners,” she said, “We haven’t been properly introduced. My name is—.”

            “Regina.”

            Belle jumped, whirling around to see Rumplestiltskin standing there. When had he arrived? He looked at Regina with a smirk, but his eyes were much colder. “What are you doing here?”

            “Oh just thought I’d drop in. There is a fairy that’s been bothering me and I know you have a thorn in your side with their kind.”

            “I have no interest in plucking the wings off a fairy at the moment,” he said, “and why beat around the bush, dearie? Admit you came here to see my latest prize.”

            “A prize?” Regina quoted, her eyes alighted on Belle, “I didn’t realize she was so valuable to you.”

            “A virgin in my bed? She’s worth her weight in gold to me,” he said. He snaked one arm around her waste to pull her towards him. Belle couldn’t relax, could barely breath. She had never done well with this sort of thing. Gaston had embraced her more than once and always told her she was too stiff, that she should bow to his whim. Well, she didn’t want to be beholden to any man, especially one she didn’t choose.

            “Really? Well you have a lot of gold, what makes her weight special to you?”

            “She’s far more fun to play with.” He let out another shrill giggle then Belle felt something wet press against her neck. Her stomach rolled and she took several deep breaths lest she spill her breakfast on her shoes.

            “Rumple, what a beast you are!” Regina exclaimed but she sounded my delighted than horrified, her eyes taking in every stiff muscle in Belle’s body. “You poor thing having to suffer at the hands of this imp.”

            “It’s what I bought her for,” Rumplestiltskin replied.

            Regina said nothing. Her dark eyes glimmered with something unpleasant. “If you ever need me, dear, just go to a mirror and say my name.”

            “She won’t be doing that,” Rumplestiltskin said, his humor gone in an instant, “And since you’ve got what you came for, you can go.”

            “So soon? I would have thought with a lady in your house you’d be more hospitable,” she replied.

            “Let’s just say I’m eager to get back to bed,” he told her, gently tracing Belle’s shoulder with his fingernail.

            “Well then, I suppose there is no point in staying.” She looked back at Belle, giving her a brilliantly fake smile. “Do call on me if you are in need, dear. I’d be happy to help.”

            The doors swung open on their own accord and Queen Regina swept of the room, the heavy smell of lilacs and apples following her. Belle stared at the doors as they slowly drifted close. Was that supposed to be her rescue? Her whole body prickled even though the room was toasty warm.

            “There is only one mirror in this castle,” Rumplestiltskin said suddenly. He pointed to the heavily draped object in the corner of the room. “Never uncover it. If you do…well let’s just say the consequences would not be pleasant. Do you understand, dearie?”

            Belle nodded softly.

            “Good.” With that said, he turned his back to her and walked over to his wheel. He didn’t glance at her once when she turned and fled the horrid room.

* * *

 

            The only good thing to come from the queen’s visit was now Belle knew the wait would be over. He’d told the queen that he valued her as a virgin. Surely tonight he would come to her and take her the way he had promised her father and every person they had come across since her sale.

            She spent the rest of the day in her room, alternating between panic and resignation to her fate. Dinner appeared on a tray again: mutton with a leek and potato soup, bread, a bed of wild rice, succulent fruit, and a chocolate tart. The simple meal was enough to tell her that fear would do her no good. Besides, if he had a bit of kindness in him to make sure she was fed and clothed properly, surely he would not be as violent as he let the others believe.

            So when the hour drew late and the candles flickered into life, Belle had set her terror aside and sat calmly, waiting for him to come once again. She didn’t question over what would happen, how painful it would be, if he would treat her gently. None of those things mattered now. She just wanted the whole thing over with.

            Belle took up her book this time to help settle her thoughts. Occasionally her eyes were drawn away from the page and to the formidable door, but the book did help to soothe the remainder of her nerves. It was so easy to get lost in the words that she didn’t realize how late it was until the clock chimed midnight. She’d been up there, waiting for him for hours once again.

            She knew she should be relieved, but that feeling never came. No, she was tired of waiting, sick of sitting in fear for him to come. She wanted this over with tonight.

            Belle took the blue dressing gown she’d found in the wardrobe to ward off the chill in the castle. He’d been at his wheel earlier after the queen had left so that would be the first place she would look. The slight squeak of the wheel and the whisper of turning wood told her she had guessed correctly.

            She wondered what it was about the spinning wheel that so captivated him. He could sit there for hours and spin, spin, spin, spools and spools of golden thread. Regina was right when she had pointed out he already had a ton of gold. Belle had already found several rooms stuffed with golden thread. Why did he need to make more?

            Finally, he looked up and saw her standing in the doorway. “What are you doing here?”

            Belle froze. She had come here ready to tell him that she was tired of waiting to be raped, but now that she was pinned by his gaze she could hardly breath.

            “Did you swallow your tongue?” he asked her, his tone grouchy once again.

            “No,” she said softly.

            “Ah, so you can speak. Good, then tell me what you want and then you can go.”

            He was prickly creature, that was for sure. “I…I wanted to know when you would come.”

            “Come?” he questioned, “What do you mean?”

            Belle peered at him, her blue eyes narrowing. “Do you jest?”

            “Frequently, but at the moment, no. What do you mean, dearie?”

            “When will you come to my bed?” she asked flatly. Her nerves gone, replaced with annoyance. His expression at her words was quite comical, but she was in no mood to laugh. “I find I grow tired of waiting, so simply tell me when you will come.”

            Rumplestiltskin’s long fingers slid away from the wheel, his hands slapping at his thighs as they went slack. For once he didn’t look like the monster he usually did. He stared at her, his brow knitted together while his large eyes looked at her like she’d suddenly sprouted wings. “Is that an invitation?”

            “What?” she asked, “I don’t understand.”

            “Neither do I, dearie, so please, speak plainly.”

            “I keep waiting for you to come,” Belle did as he asked, speaking the full truth, “You bought me from my father for your pleasure and yet I remain a maid. You told the queen and the Duke of Wimberly that I am you mistress, yet you leave me untouched. If this is some game you are playing with me, I don’t appreciate it. I would much rather you tell me when to expect you so I can stop wondering.”

            The queer look left him, a new light dawning in his red-gold eyes. “Ah, I see.”

            He stood up from his wheel and took the room towards her in long, careful strides. “You’re waiting for me to ravish you, is that it?” Belle nodded. “You’re waiting for me to tear that bit of silk and lace off of you and let me have my way with you fifteen ways till sunrise. Is that it?”

            The butterflies in her belly returned, her mouth went dry and she could feel her palms begin to sweat. Dear gods, what had she done? She never should have come down here.

            “I could do it,” he promised her, one hand trailing up her arm, “I could rip this nightgown to shreds like paper.” He walked behind her, but she could feel his hot breath in her ear. “I could shove onto that table there and feast myself on ever inch of your body until there was no part of you I didn’t know.”

            Belle’s hands fisted the fabric of her robe. She could feel his fingernail tracing the line of her spine, sending cold shivers down her body. “I could make you suck on my cock,” he told her, “suck on it until I burst and make you do it again and again and again.”

            People did that sort of thing? She tried to imagine it, but her mind was completely blank. She tried not to flinch as he wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her up against his chest. “Then I could finally take your maidenhead and fuck you so hard you wouldn’t walk for a week,” he rumbled into hear ear. “Is that what you want, dearie?”

            Belle squeezed her eyes shut. All of her senses were hammering away, her blood racing in her veins and pounding in her ears. By the gods, she was such a fool to have come here.

            “Answer me,” he demanded, “Is that what you want?”

            “No!” she sobbed out.

            His arms fell away and she nearly stumbled to the ground. Her breath came out in one great whoosh. “I thought so,” he said coolly.

            Rumplestiltskin walked away from her, his boots clicking against the floor as he returned to his wheel. Belle stared at him with her jaw open, her eyes large and unblinking. “What…what…are you doing?”

            “Go back to your room, dearie,” he said, “I won’t be joining you there tonight or any night.”

            Belle’s heart began to slow it’s race inside of her chest. She released the folds of her robe from her hot palms. “You aren’t going to rape me.”

            “No,” he said, “I never had any intention of doing that.”

            “Then why?” she asked, “why bring me here if you don’t want me?”

            “Don’t want you?” he said with a giggle, “Dearie, you are more lovely than a Spring day, of course I want you. But even monsters like me have a few morals and I have no desire to pluck you against your will.”

            He wasn’t going to rape her. He never had any intention of forcing himself on her. All of her doubts, her fears, her terrors of this dark castle, evaporated like water in the middle of a drought. “Why did you buy me then?” she asked, her only question left.

            “To teach that idiotic father of yours a lesson,” he explained, “Regina has already heard that I have bought a girl to play with, soon the whole world will know that Sir Maurice sold his only daughter to the Dark One for his own selfish desires.”

            Cold shock hit her square in the face. “No decent man would associate with him,” Belle said.

            “Exactly. In order to keep himself afloat, he’ll have to dabble with the people who have no morals at all,” Rumplestiltskin said, “He’ll learn the full cost of abandoning children to serve himself. That is the true price for his riches.”

            It was ingenious. Her father had valued his reputation before. He had been an honorable lord, decorated by the king. Now he would be forced to deal with pirates and cutthroats instead of the noble men. His reputation would be in tatters. He wouldn’t find another wife to give him an heir. His own people would fear him. Everywhere he went, people would whisper about his shame and know that he was the most selfish man in all the world.

            “Go to bed, dearie,” he told her.

            Belle wasn’t sure if she would sleep, her mind too busy piecing together all of what she now knew, but at least she knew that her bed was safe from being tarnished. When she reached the door, she paused and looked over her shoulder at him. “You’re not who I thought you were,” she said, “I’m glad of that.”

            He let out a grunt and shook his head before devoting himself back to his wheel. Still, Belle smiled as she made her way through the chilly corridors to her room. To think that beneath all of that leather, scales, and dark humor, lay no monster. Indeed, the Dark One was nothing more than a man. A man she had no reason to fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter, Rumple can be a bit dense sometimes, LOL. Next chapter: Maurice calls upon Rumple to tell him how displeased he is now, Belle starts finding something to do in the castle, while Rumple discovers it might be nice having her around.

**Author's Note:**

> Please review and let me know what you think.


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